


Of Battles and Kings

by bananas_are_love



Series: Of Cardigans And Turtlenecks [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: (really though it's only mentioned), Actually Everywhere Inbetween Canon, Books, But They Also Deny It, But Tries to Deny It, Erik Has Feelings, Follows the Old Timeline, I Didn't Read The Book So Please Be Nice?, Literature, Literature Talk, M/M, Old Magneto Is A Troll, Old Men In Love, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sentimental Old Fools, Time Skips, but not really, oh boys, the once and future king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananas_are_love/pseuds/bananas_are_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik allow themselves to stay in bed on a stormy morning. Topic of discussion is, as always, Charles' foolishness and Erik's anger - only hidden by their mutual love for a certain piece of literature. The love story of two stubborn idiots and the journey of a worn out hardcover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Battles and Kings

October 1962 had been an unusually sunny month until then, but on this Tuesday outside the sky was cloudy and it started to rain even before early riser Hank got up.

Side effect of that terrible weather seemed to be that Erik wasn't exactly in the mood to leave Charles' bed soon enough to safely sneak into his assigned room again.  

"Are you ready to explain the art of making love to a man to a bunch of, mostly male, teenagers? Because I am not, my friend."

Erik smiled and stroked the warm skin of Charles' back. It seemed to glow white in the dim glow the lamp on the nightstand produced. "Well, I thought you were a telepath. Just lie to them, make them think today is Sunday, or something. Make them stay in bed."

Charles sighed, not sure if he was annoyed or amused. "You know we also train on sundays, they wouldn't buy that. And I am not going to alter minds just so you can stay comfortable!" 

"Well, in that case you are losing your personal bedwarmer in about thirty seconds."

That stupid metalbender was such a manipulative bastard. 

Charles settled on sending the awaking Hank a mental massage in which he explained that Erik and him had probably overdone with the scotch the night before and would both stay in their (own, he stressed) beds until noon, and everyone was ought to be ready for training by then. Raven would probably be suspicious, she knew that Charles hardly ever was hungover. But then again, if Hank could distract her enough, she wouldn't stomp into his room like she usually did when he was lazy.

The morning was nice and full of cuddling; soon Charles got his book from the nightstand and started to read to Erik like he had the previous nights. Charles had read The Once And Future King about a thousand times, it had been his father's book, but it was all new to Erik and it was interesting to get his point of view on the plot.

But as always when they brushed political topics, their opinions couldn't be more different.

"Arthur is a fool", Erik repeated for the forth time. "He doesn't use his opportunities properly, he could be so much more successful if he used his power!"

"But it's not about force, Erik. It's about responsibility and diplomacy."

It almost seemed as if Erik wanted to knock Charles' head off his lap. "Diplomacy? Charles, never in history has diplomacy ever led to a solution!"

The answer came with the same enthusiasm, but with less anger than Erik's words. "I disagree. Think about the Congress of Vienna, for example. Or the Potsdam Agreement."

Erik snorted. "And you see how far that brought us, you idealistic fool. Now we're on the verge of a war once again."

"But this time it's Shaw who nudges the world towards that war."

It was obvious that Erik had to agree to that, and the mention of Shaw's name reminded him of for what he really was in the mansion, with Charles. He didn't like hearing his torturer's name in bed; the dark thoughts and harsh words were banned to the sitting group and the chessboard. Charles' childhood bed meant peace and freedom and, finally, serenity.

He could feel Erik's discomfort, so Charles slung an arm around Erik's impossibly bony shoulder and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I think I still need some time to convince you of my idea of peace", he murmured, and then another thought crossed his mind. "How about I lend you that book? As long as you need, read it by yourself and when you're finished a few more times, so we're on one level. Maybe one day we'll get to a point where we can agree with each other, find a compromise."

Erik smiled, grateful. "I will read it as many times as you want, just to satisfy you."

Charles chuckled. "Oh, I can think of a few other ways to satisfy me", he purred and pinned Erik to the mattress, the book falling from his lap.

 

* * *

 

About two weeks later Erik stormed into the mansion, the helmet still on his head. 

"You stay here", he ordered the teleporter, the storm guy and Angel, and to Raven - _Mystique_ \- he shouted "If you still need something, be quick and get it, remember that he can still track you." Mystique's look said that she doubted Charles had an interest in tracking her right now and he probably had bigger problems, being shot and all - but Erik didn't let himself think about that. His brain was occupied with thoughts about people from his past that seemed trustworthy, cooperative or at least silent and could be a help right now. He ran past Charles' private chambers, right into his room (the one he rarely ever had used, only the night before, had gone back after an argument with Charles and declined to spend the night together, only to find Raven - Mystique, _goddammit_ \- and send her away to read the chapter before the last of the book Charles gave him) and grabbed the few things he had brought with him and seemed important now: some files he took from Moira, his own gun, trying not to think what other guns had done - _shit shit shit -_ and a single change of clothes. Most of his stuff he left behind, maybe he'd return someday later, maybe sooner if Charles could admit that Erik had been right all along.

He was almost out of the door when his eyes fell on the striped hardcover edition of The Once And Future King. There was still one chapter left for him to read, and, screw it, he grabbed it and left the room. Erik didn't run down the corridor. Running was for cowards, and he told himself that he wasn't running away.

In the entrance hall Mystique still stood where he had left her, no bags or boxes in her hands.

"Nothing you want to get?" 

She shook her head. "There's nothing left for me here", she said, but her eyes flickered around the hall as if she wanted to drink in the sight, remember it. 

Erik waited another few seconds, but then he took her hand and led her outside. Azazel, the teleporter, nodded as if to say that he was ready; Erik told him the address of a former Nazi hunter in Haifa, took his hand and the group vanished.

They hadn't been in the house for more than seven minutes. 

 

* * *

 

 

A year later Charles wheeled himself into his study. He was glad Hank had installed a telephone on his table, and Alex had built a ramp for him to get there from the kitchen. The children in the hallway were quite loud today - apparently the weather forecast predicted snow and Sean had promised to build snowmen and -women with them -, so Charles closed the door behind him before he answered the phone.

His mood went sour in seconds.

"Yes, I already thought so. No, I am not surprised, the bullet curved... No, Sir, I didn't say anything."

Paper rustled on the other end of the line. 

_"Professor Xavier, Mr Lehnsherr has listed you as his emergency contact. We cannot allow you to speak with him, and legal counsel won't be helpful in this case, I am afraid."_

Charles breathed out slowly. "Don't be sorry about that, I am sure he deserves whatever you plan for him." He touched his knees and didn't feel a thing. Hopefully the Secret Service would break Erik's spine in the most painful way.

The agent sounded confused, but only once again reminded him that this was a top secret issue. 

_"Oh, and there's one thing left. We found some of Mr Lehnsherr's possessions in a hotel room nearby, and among them is a book in which your name is written down as the owner's. Would you like to receive it?"_

A bitter laugh escaped Charles lips. "No, no, please. He can keep it." _It was meant to be a gift anyway_ , he thought to himself. 

He didn't dare to ask if they took a blue girl into custody, too.

 

* * *

 

 

_I forgot how **boring** prison is_ , Erik thinks grimly. 

His first time in prison in this decade, and his first time in an American prison since 1975, when Mystique had finally recovered enough from Trask Industry's tortures to set him free. Other country's prisons usually weren't able to keep him in for more that a few days, only as long as they could keep Erik under drug influence. These wicked Americans, though, he must admit that, seem to know how to deal with him.

But they are getting soft, too. Back in the 60s, his food was delivered through the ceiling, no human contact needed, now he even has a guard who occasionally tries to chat with him. Humans, so primitive, so full of hope. It's only a matter of time until they make a mistake and he can break out without even getting dust on this stupid uniform, or until Mystique finds out where he is and can shift into one of the guards or some other disguise and get him out of here.

Today the guard who brings him dinner is especially cheerful. 

"Eh, Mr Magneto, when you're finished with this muck there's a visitor for you!"

Erik sits up. He is surprised, he knows Mystique is quick, but he has given her at least another two weeks.

He is even more surprised when Charles Xavier, in a plastic wheelchair and all, rolls through the vacuum lock. But he weren't Magneto if he didn't know how to put on a show.

"Charles, old friend, how long has it been? 1988, right? The 90s made you even balder than you were last time I saw you." His smile is a facade, his look is aimed somewhere between Charles' eyebrows. Erik's heart is beating faster than it has in years, since 1988, to be exact. 

_Oh yes, it was April 1988 and once again you didn't have the manners to ring the doorbell but forced me to open my bedroom windows for you. Scott is not a dog, he doesn't bite, you know_ , says a voice like liquid contentment in his head. 

"God, Charles, you want to tell me something about manners but talk right into my head? That isn't polite either, you know?" Truth is that Erik is afraid. How much of his excitement can Charles sense? That damn telepath. But if he feels something, he doesn't comment on it. "Besides, Cyclops hates me more than any dog ever would. Dogs are actually quite fond of me, believe it or not."

Charles laughs silently, then decides to speak out loud. "Speaking about manners, Erik, one doesn't visit an old friend without a gift, right? I brought along something."

If Charles wants to play nice, who is Erik to deny him his pleasure? (He was never good at denying Charles pleasure.) "Oh, what is it? If it involves something sharp or, of course, metal, you are very welcome."

Charles pulls out something from his lap and sets it on the table between them. Erik's eyes widen.

"Where did you get that?"

Another chuckle. _I actually always wondered if you ever got it after Raven broke you out of the Pentagon, so I just went there and asked for it. You know, I can be very persuasive if I want to and it's still my legal possession; you never really claimed it for yourself._ Erik decides to let Charles' deliberate mistake with Mystique's name slip: Charles **is** a sentimental fool after all. Right now he is way too interested in the book in front of him anyway.

"I just thought you might need some entertainment in here, I was told a stay in prison can get very boring.", Charles states with a stoic smile, but his mind is warm and bright and reassuring against Erik's. _It's yours, it was always meant as a gift anyway, when I first gave it to you as well as when you took it with you without asking. And I crossed out my name in the cover, so feel free to mark it as yours._

Magneto has never cried, Erik didn't cry in years, but right now he is so close that all he can do is swallow around the lump in his throat and try to give Charles a watery smile. "Well, then I guess I should say thank you, old friend."

"Oh Erik, not for that silly old book." Charles wheels around to leave, but turns his head back to Erik and fixes him with his gaze.

_I still hope we can agree over it one day._

"If you say so, Charles. Goodbye, then, and give Scott a dog treat from me."

And then Erik does something he hasn't done since that one night in 1979, the last time he cried, when the mutual touch with Charles' mind made him cry. He gently reaches out with his thoughts.

_I hope so, too, my love._

One last smile, and Charles is back in the plastic tunnel. 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night, Erik carefully writes his name down in the inner book cover with pencil. Eighteen letters, block letters, neat and tidy, because finally he owns something again.

He dreams of gentle, generous kings and endless lands to peacefully conquer.


End file.
